Chapter 141

Chapter 141

After so many days apart, Chen Zui had only one thing on his mind. He pressed against the person sprawled across the bed from behind, pinching Le Ziyou’s chin to turn his head slightly before kissing him directly, voraciously drawing in his yang qi.

He had never experienced anything so addictive—this was likely a drawback of ghosthood.

Chen Zui kissed with a fierce hunger, as if he meant to devour Le Ziyou whole. The ceaseless flow of yang qi being absorbed only made his desires more insatiable.

As he received Chen Zui’s kisses, Le Ziyou felt himself gradually weakening, yet he wasn’t afraid; in fact, he was expectant, knowing what pleasure awaited him afterward.

He was utterly defenseless against the kiss, his tongue taken by Chen Zui as if it were sustenance.

Outside the door, Mi Jin pressed his ear against the wood. The room had fallen silent; he heard neither terrifying singing nor Le Ziyou’s voice. This alarmed him greatly—had Le Ziyou’s earlier bravado angered the ghost so much that he’d already been dispatched?

He banged forcefully on the door: "Le Ziyou? Le Ziyou, are you still alive?"

Chen Zui began returning the yang qi to Le Ziyou. He heard the weak man let out a soft moan as the energy flowed back, watching Le Ziyou’s face gradually regain its color, no longer so pale.

Le Ziyou also noticed Chen Zui was starting to return his yang qi. With eyes closed, he greedily tangled his tongue with Chen Zui’s. Chen Zui deliberately pulled back, and Le Ziyou, like a little puppy, extended his tongue in pursuit.

The tip of his tongue curled upward, hooking back.

Chen Zui bit down. Having fiercely drawn yang qi, he was now in good spirits, and the kiss became more lingering as he gradually returned the yang qi to Le Ziyou.

Le Ziyou felt as if he were soaking in a hot spring on a snowy mountain—both cold and warmth enveloping him at once. Whenever he felt stung by the cold, warmth would wash over him overwhelmingly, making the warmth feel even more comforting.

It was like candy tasting sweeter after crying.

It was the feeling he had been longing for all these days.

Yet it still wasn't enough.

It was too gentle.

He wanted Chen Zui to return all the yang qi to him fiercely in one go. He opened his eyes, glistening with moisture; though he couldn’t see, he knew where Chen Zui was from the origin of the kiss.

Besides, he now knew what Chen Zui looked like.

He wanted to actually see him, curious about what expression that face would wear during a kiss.

The thought flashed through his mind, but it wasn’t his most pressing concern right now. While kissing, he mumbled: "Chen Zui."

"Hmm?"

Amid such passion, Chen Zui’s voice remained cold, but this chill didn’t extinguish Le Ziyou’s ardor—instead, it made it burn even brighter.

"Return all the yang qi to me at once."

It was an unexpected request. Chen Zui still vividly remembered how Le Ziyou looked every time he deliberately returned all the yang qi at once—clearly overwhelmed by it, yet apparently enjoying it.

He really was suited to be teased.

"What did you say?" Chen Zui asked, returning even less yang qi.

Le Ziyou stared blankly ahead, his mind not quite working. He reached out urgently toward Chen Zui, grabbing the open lapel of his trench coat and gently shaking it: "Be rougher with me."

Chen Zui’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

Le Ziyou had no idea what a provocative thing he’d just said. Without needing Chen Zui to guide him, he cleverly added: "Please."

Chen Zui had completely stopped returning yang qi to him. He hadn’t realized before that Le Ziyou was quite good at seduction.

Biting Le Ziyou’s lip, he asked: "How are you going to beg me?"

Le Ziyou, dazed, shook the hand clutching his lapel anxiously: "Just like this, begging you."

Chen Zui chuckled lightly and even stopped kissing. He got up and sat by the bed. Le Ziyou eagerly turned his head and rested it on Chen Zui’s lap, looking aggrieved. How could he end up with nothing and even have what little he’d been given taken away?

At the very least, they should keep kissing—he could still steal a few cold breaths of ghost qi to cool down.

Le Ziyou tried to climb up but was pressed down by Chen Zui’s hand on his shoulder, unable to move. He looked up in confusion. Chen Zui had only returned a tiny amount of yang qi to him so far, leaving him extremely weak and sweating profusely. Worried about his condition and driven by his desires, he urgently wanted his yang qi back.

Chen Zui: "Want your yang qi?"

Le Ziyou nodded.

Chen Zui moved his hand from Le Ziyou’s shoulder to his head, pressing down with a bit more force: "Your yang qi is all here. Whether you want to take it back little by little or all at once is up to you."

Looking down, Le Ziyou saw the only solid part of Chen Zui’s blurry form.

It was the same thing he’d been curious about and played with for a while when he left that day. Though still hidden under fabric, he remembered it clearly. So now he had to—

What was this guy treating his yang qi as?!

But Le Ziyou couldn’t refuse. He was desperately weak, even breathing was exhausting. Besides, it was his yang qi—why shouldn’t he take it back?

He looked up at Chen Zui: "You…"

This was just too bullying.

Chen Zui: "Now you have control."

The words left Le Ziyou stunned. He could have control with Chen Zui?

How novel, exciting, and enthralling.

So even though he knew it was just bait on a trap, he still wanted to jump for it.

Especially since it was bait related to his life—he couldn’t give up.

Le Ziyou looked again, once more realizing he had underestimated ghosts before. How could a ghost play so dirty?

He, a living person, felt ashamed of his inferiority.

Cold sweat dripped down his cheek. Le Ziyou was about to collapse; if he didn’t get some yang qi back soon, he might pass out.

Le Ziyou took a deep breath and began to act. It was just a big ice pop. When he saw it without any obstruction, he realized it was probably because Chen Zui had been unconscious last time.

Because now it was completely normal.

Except it was still cold. Holding it for too long even made his hand feel icy.

For his yang qi!

—

—

Le Ziyou took it in one mouthful. So cold—his mouth instantly cooled down. On such a sweltering summer night, having something like this was actually pretty refreshing.

Le Ziyou sucked on the popsicle, half-expecting to swallow shards of ice or have his tongue stick to it like licking a metal gate in the dead of a northern winter.

In reality, the temperature wasn’t nearly that harsh, though the sensation did eerily resemble cold iron.

Desperate to regain his yang energy, Le Ziyou took deep, greedy sucks one after another.

Chen Zui watched him intently, as if observing an eager little squirrel devouring its stash.

Le Ziyou sucked hard on the ice pop, trying to melt the tip with his tongue so he could taste the delicious, life-giving filling inside.

Though Chen Zui was a ghost and theoretically incapable of feeling anything, his System, Ao Tian, had other ideas—it wouldn't cut corners when it came to serving its host.

So it spent points to adjust certain data parameters.

As a result, Chen Zui’s sensory experience was no different from when he’d been alive.

He could feel the warmth of the mouth, the softness of the tongue—clumsy yet fervent.

Full marks for effort.

Noticing Le Ziyou’s hair damp with sweat, Chen Zui returned a portion of yang energy to help him recover.

Weak and dizzy, Le Ziyou finally got a taste—but it wasn’t nearly enough. After losing so much yang energy, his craving intensified, desperate to reclaim every last drop.

His cheeks hollowed with effort as he aggressively sucked on the ice pop, swallowing rapidly.

“Over here.” Outside the door, Mi Jin met the locksmith at the elevator.

He hadn’t run away. Despite his fear, the thought that Le Ziyou might already be dead inside drove him to act.

The locksmith asked if the door had been deadbolted.

“No.”

The locksmith pulled out a slim card and slid it into the gap near the latch.

Chen Zui stopped regulating the flow of yang energy, content to watch the little hamster feast.

Just then, he heard noises at the door and glanced over.

“Huh?” The locksmith looked confused.

Mi Jin asked nervously, “What’s wrong?”

The man withdrew the card. Strange—the mechanism hadn’t triggered. But he said nothing, unwilling to appear incompetent and risk losing the job.

“It’s fine.”

He changed tactics, turning to the peephole instead.

Mi Jin scrolled through his phone searching for a spiritual master, but they all looked like frauds—just like them. Would calling the police even help?

Anxious, he scratched his head.

Le Ziyou continued sucking fiercely on the ice pop, unable to reach the core in one go. He just wanted to extract the liquid center.

He licked at the small pool of liquid gathered at the tip, attempting to separate the shell from the filling with his tongue—but failed. His cheeks caved in again as he sucked harder.

This time, he finally managed to draw out the liquid center—and just as he’d hoped, it surged forth all at once, gushing so fast he couldn’t swallow quickly enough.

Outside, the locksmith removed the peephole and threaded a wire through, fishing for the door handle.

Mi Jin called a master but didn’t want to speak in front of the locksmith, afraid the man would flee without finishing. So he ducked into the stairwell.

Chen Zui exhaled slowly, watching Le Ziyou tremble. The guy was pushing himself too hard—wasn’t he afraid of breaking himself?

What had started as punishment now felt more like a reward.

The locksmith maneuvered the wire to hook the handle and pulled upward.

But the handle, enveloped in ghostly qi, refused to budge.

Chen Zui lifted Le Ziyou onto his lap, straightened his clothes, wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes, then cupped his chin, staring into his dazed expression.

It felt like a few rough encounters could max out the affection meter to 100%.

Tch. Annoying.

He patted Le Ziyou’s cheek. Did this guy even remember he was a ghost? Or was any pleasure enough for him?

When Mi Jin returned from his call, he found the locksmith soaked in sweat. “What’s wrong? Can’t you open it?”

Facing the toughest challenge of his career, the locksmith forced an awkward smile. “This lock… it’s something else.”

Mi Jin thought, Of course it is—it’s sealed by a ghost…

The locksmith said, “Let me try again.”

Le Ziyou gradually came down from the wave of pleasure, his first coherent thought being that continuing like this would destroy him—this thing was addictive!

Sensing Chen Zui holding him, Le Ziyou stole a glance toward Chen Zui’s face.

Just to be safe.

He put on a smile. “So… are we good now?”

He still needed to find another way to escape or get rid of Chen Zui. The memory of eerie singing, blood, and the locked door—the dark, forced, dangerous “love”—was not what he wanted.

He nuzzled against Chen Zui’s shoulder, playing along. “I’ll never run away again.”

Chen Zui asked, “Have you fallen in love with me?”

Le Ziyou blinked, reached up to touch the face he couldn’t see, and wore a lovesick expression.

“Yes, I’m in love with you. Only you can make me this happy. I can’t live without you now.”

He looked utterly sincere, as if speaking from the heart.

Chen Zui took the hand resting on his face. “How do you plan to prove your love?”

Le Ziyou: …

Not easy to fool.

"How do you want me to prove it?"

He felt his hand being held, Chen Zui's thumb gently stroking the back of his hand. For a moment, Chen Zui didn’t answer his question, as if thinking.

He was already starting to regret his response—it was the wrong thing to say. What if Chen Zui told him to sleep with him as proof?

The thumb stroking his hand stilled.

Then he heard Chen Zui say, "Kill Mi Jin, prove you love me."